


Runaways

by avtorSola



Series: Playing in other Sandboxes [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alluka is a psychic, Don’t copy to another site, Gon is a Yakuza Boss, KilluGon is later in the AU, Killua is a professional hitman, M/M, Not my AU, Yakuza AU, a gift fic for a delightful hooman!, sorta a psychic anyway, the zoldycks are hitmen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/avtorSola
Summary: A little bit of my take on the beginning of the Yakuza AU created by trashsketch on twitter/tumblr!Killua and Alluka are on the run from their terrible family, but they've hit a final roadblock - crossing the border into the next country. While trying to find ways to leave the country without alerting the Zoldycks, they run into a very familiar face...but Gon isn't exactly the Gon that Killua knew when they were kids.Mostly some Killua & Alluka fluffy sibling nonsense, though.





	Runaways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashsketch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsketch/gifts).



> A gift for a lovely person! Hopefully it's a little like what's going on in your head XD

The hotel he’d chosen was a far cry from a safe haven for two exhausted and slightly panicked young adults, but it would serve exactly the purpose it was supposed to serve. No self-respecting member of his family would dare to spend a night in such a place, except perhaps when hunting their marks. And better yet, he could tell from the dilapidated sign and flickering neon lights in the windows that the place likely saw little patronage beyond the occasional couple renting a room for some illicit tryst. Although, given the neighborhood he and Alluka were currently stranded in and nearby, he somehow suspected that those overnight outings were more common than could be expected…

Shaking his head quickly to banish the doubt, Killua peered through the depths of midnight smog at the motel in front of him. Regardless of the income – if the building was falling apart at the seams, then it meant that a little hush money could go a long way.

Orange streetlights and the flashing strobes of the backdoor nightclubs flooded the limp white strands of his hair with pale color, tinging his pale skin with jaundice. Alluka’s grip on his arm tightened briefly as he took a ginger step down the sidewalk towards the tall building, her narrow fingers pinching his skin.

“How long, Onii-chan?” she whispered quietly. He let out a ragged breath, but cast a wan smile at his younger sister, breathing a sigh of relief when she took a step forward to keep pace, his weight half-supported by her grip.

“Until I find a way across the border. Three nights for now,” he mumbled back, leaning more heavily on his sister than he needed to. She grunted a little, but took the brunt of his weight without complaint, a hand sliding down to wrap around his waist. Twisted ankle aside, a lone pair of twenty-somethings roaming the streets quietly in a city this noisy, dirty, and vast would be far more noticeable than a girl babysitting her too-drunk boyfriend. It was a disguise that worked very well for them, but they could only use it on occasion – it had been a staple for scoping out marks back home.

Alluka helped him stumble down the sidewalk toward a rusting door, passing a few clusters of drunk or drugged teens enjoying the ambient music of the nightclubs and bars and – yeah, that looked like a brothel – lining the street. But they made inside a dingy lobby with no issues, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead in a stale room. A woman sat behind the desk, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine. She looked up when they staggered in. Killua let his eyes droop, head lolling forward.

Alluka half-carried him a few steps further into the hotel lobby, then very gently dipped her hand into his pocket, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his grey jeans. That caught the attention of the smoking woman behind the desk, and she sat upright, putting the magazine down for a moment with an unimpressed glare.

“Ah…can we have three nights in a room?” Alluka kept her voice fluttery and soft, like the giggly, wonderstruck young woman she would be as soon as they left the country. The lady behind the country nodded, looking slightly more interested now.

“Eighty bucks, dollface,” the woman said, putting the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply, breathing out a cloud of ash and dust. Alluka fished the money out of his wallet, then bit her lower lip shyly. Killua shifted sluggishly in her grip, slurring an attempt at a generic pet name.

“Uhm…can I pay you a little extra?” Alluka asked with an airy, nervous giggle. “My daddy, uhm, he doesn’t really approve of this kitten.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up at the phrasing and honestly, Killua would have reacted the same way if he hadn’t been playing the incoherent drunk. _Kitten? Really, Alluka, is that really what you’re going with?_ But the ploy worked, and the lady nodded, holding out her hand with a key sitting in her palm.

“One hundred thirty, I never saw you, and you two are in room three hundred and six.”

Alluka wiggled her fingers in a little wave, paid, and took the key, then dragged a still-stumbling Killua towards the stairs. They kept the charade up until they reached the dingy room they’d rented and shut the door, the metal bolt squealing painfully as it dragged across the inside lock. Then, once they were safe, and the door was locked behind them, Alluka let go of her brother’s waist and tossed his wallet back. Killua caught it easily and tucked the packed thing back into his pocket, then dropped his backpack on the sole rickety side table and began poking around.

It wasn’t terrible, for less than thirty bucks a night. The bathroom actually had a working door – if vandalized – and after a quick inspection the siblings were surprised to find only a few cockroaches and no signs of bedbugs. Everything was in disrepair, of course, but for the most part the hotel was almost clean, and it was something of a pleasant surprise. Alluka dropped her backpack next to her brother’s, unzipping the top compartment and forcibly shoving Killua back onto the rickety bed. He whined, protesting, but didn’t put up much resistance.

“Oi, Alluka-”

“Your ankle, Onii-chan. You’ve been walking on it all day and I _know_ I heard something pop.”

It had been a nasty stumble, but an entirely undignified error for someone with his training, so he scowled, pouting something ferocious as his shoulders slumped in resignation. He untied his boots, easily kicking the left boot off before yelping and struggling to tug the other black boot off without disturbing his foot. Alluka clucked her tongue the second she saw his ankles side by side, and even he had to suppress of groan of frustration. One of his ankles was noticeably larger than its counterpart, the swollen area visible even through the sock.

He leaned back and gritted his teeth as Alluka carefully pulled his sock off and started probing the puffy area, wincing slightly. His sister’s sharp blue eyes found his face, a cheerful grin scrunching her cheeks up. Then she moved his ankle, gently forcing his foot forward and from side to side. He yelped again as a sharp zing shot up the outside of his ankle, glaring something fierce at his sister. She giggled at the noise, then sighed and reached into the pocket of the bag she’d unzipped.

“You can move it okay, so my guess is a sprain, Onii-chan,” she said, pulling their small first-aid kit from the top of her pack and unpacking a generic ACE bandage from the clear plastic case. A frown crossed her face as she started wrapping up her brother’s foot, and Killua focus sharpened, narrowing in on his little sister’s face. They weren’t kids anymore – hell, Alluka was almost twenty-four, and a gorgeous young woman – but the quirk of her lips when she was upset was still the same as it was when she was eight and terrified and trying on dresses for the first time.

“Ah- Alluka, I know that look. Don’t you _dare_.”

“But-”

“No buts! You’re getting the surgery you want, and I don’t _care_ how far away I have to take you to keep you safe from Illumi’s transphobic bullshit. I won’t let him hurt you or use you and Nanika, not ever. A sprain is nothing, and you and I both know it was a dumb mistake on my part.”

Alluka’s lower lip trembled violently, and her pink-painted nails clicked as she fastened the clasps on the bandage wrapped about her brother’s ankle. Killua shifted, scooting around on the creaky bed until he was leaning up against her shoulder, his nose pressed against her ear and the short, dark strands of her bob. A small quiver went through her shoulders. Even after almost twenty-four years as a Zoldyck, Alluka had never really warmed up to the idea of killing. Especially not when it was someone she loved pulling a trigger for her sake.

Killua couldn’t help but admire her for it.

“Hey. I love you, little sister, and don’t you forget it.”

Alluka flung herself on top of Killua with a muffled wail and buried her face in his shoulder, both of them falling backward onto the uncomfortable old mattress with a slight bounce. Killua sighed, wrapping his arms carefully around the now-sobbing girl’s strong shoulders, and hefted the girl up the length of his body until she was comfortably tucked against his side. The collar of his dark shirt started to get damp.

“O-Onii-chan…” Alluka whimpered. Killua tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking the recently-cut strands gently.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he reassured with a smile, grip tightening ferociously around her. “Don’t worry, we’re going to be fine. I promise.”

* * *

Alluka took the first shower the next morning, the little thief sliding into the dingy bathroom with flipflops and soap before Killua had fully blinked the sleep from his eyes. He’d yelled at her through the cardboard-thin door for a bit, then resigned himself to being grungy for a while longer and settled for moping, swollen ankle propped up on a pile of hard pillows. Bored, he inspected the injury, poking at the puffy parts hidden by the stiff bandage. It ached a bit, but it didn’t really feel too terrible at the moment. And the swelling seemed to have gone down a touch since last night, probably a byproduct of Alluka’s insistence that he sleep with it elevated.

“Quit poking at it, Onii-chan,” Alluka scolded him mildly as she stepped out of the tiny bathroom, a towel piled on top of her head but dressed in a pastel pink t-shirt and short bubblegum blue overalls, white high-top sneakers on her feet. She had a tube of lipstick in her hand, uncapped, the color a bright pop of cotton-candy in against a backdrop of peeling beige paint. Killua’s mouth quirked up at the sight, his eyes feeling lightly crusted. He’d slept with eyeliner on again, dammit. “And go shower. You have some lovely raccoon-eyes this morning, Mr. I-don’t-wash-my-makeup-off.”

“Wow, well, at least I _have_ eyeliner game. I know what _that_ lipstick means - trying to kiss some cute boys today, hm? Not with those messy stripes on your eyelids,” he teased back, slinging his long body off the bed in zombielike slow motion. Alluka hummed, swiping the color on her mouth, then stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“Or some cute girls. I’m not picky, and you deserve at least a snowball’s chance in hell with a _few_ of my castoffs,” she said, popping her ‘p’s in a silly, giggling drawl. Killua pretended to scoff for a moment, turning his nose up at his younger sibling’s antics. Then he limped gingerly over to the shower, swollen ankle stiffened up helpfully by the bandage, bringing his backpack of clothing with him.

“That’s nice of you, but I have more important things to do than sleep around, no matter how cute the boys here might be,” he sniped back, only half-kidding. Alluka was his priority. Getting her safe and out of the reach of the Zoldyck hitmen was his priority. Everything else could wait – including his hormones.

He left Alluka screeching in indignation about how “You’re the one that sleeps around, Onii-chan, _I_ play hard-to-get, thank you very much!” and slid into the tiny prison-bathroom. Small dark spots wriggled around the shower drain, creeping up out of the pipes, and Killua turned on the water with a sigh, flushing the tiny bugs away before undressing. Gross.

Twenty minutes later, Killua stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and plastered to the sides of his head. Alluka turned around, immediately giving his clothes a once-over. Then she bit her lower lip, regarding his pants critically.

“White jeans?” she asked, skeptically. “With your boots and the jacket?

Killua nodded, the redone black eyeliner lining his eyes once again crisp. Alluka took another long, hard look at his outfit, then sighed and nodded. Killua tried not to laugh. It had been months since either of them had been able to dress the way they’d used to back at…well, not _home_ , but at the place they’d grown up. Months since he’d been able to wear the kind of clothing that would fit with Alluka’s highly-selective tastes. But she still insisted on making sure that the few sets of clothing he’d packed when they’d escaped the Zoldyck estate looked decent.

Once he’d passed Alluka’s inspection, he set about repacking his backpack, folding clothes and stuffing it back inside as neatly as he could, over top of the handguns at the base of his backpack and the long steel knives he kept hidden there. Then he glanced up at Alluka, eyes narrowing as he watched her try to brush out her short hair, the dark bob barely tickling her collar now. He knew this part of the country was split, two of the strongest yakuza conglomerates often fighting over the city. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

Quick and smooth, he slipped a pistol into the waistband of his jeans and tucked his shirt over it. Then he put his jacket on, and the backpack over top of that, ready to go for the day. Alluka glanced up at him, then sighed put her hairbrush back in her bag and slung her purse over her shoulder. Her backpack didn’t have much in the way of valuables left in it, so it would be left in the room.

She dropped the hotel room key into his palm. For a moment her blue eyes flashed dark, almost black. Killua froze immediately, waiting patiently for the psychic spirit that dwelled somewhere in Alluka’s head to speak.

“Killua. Killua be safe. Alluka be safe.”

Killua smiled at that, then reached up and gently patted Alluka’s head, knowing that the motion of his movement would register to the usually-quiet spirit. Nanika’s expression of happiness lit up Alluka’s face.

“We’ll be safe, Nanika-chan. Don’t worry.”

“Ai!”

Then Alluka blinked and her eyes were bright, cheerful blue again, and she giggled lightly, knocking her brother’s hand off her head with a playful flick of a wrist. Her bracelet jingled.

“Nanika is all bubbly now, thanks to you,” Alluka chirped, pushing the door to the room open and stepping out into the dingy hallway. Frayed carpet snagged on her high-top sneakers. “I think she’s developing a crush on you.”

Killua laughed a little bit, following his sister out into the hallway and locking the hotel door behind him. It wouldn’t hold up to a good kick, but at least it was a minor deterrent. His ankle ached, once again wrapped in the tan bandage for support and shoved into the lace-up boots he liked so much. Alluka watched him limp down the hall, the faint variation in his gait barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him.

“…It’s cute that Nanika likes me, but she should try for someone who’s a good person.” Killua tried to keep his voice, light, walking ahead of his sister towards the staircase. Alluka stayed quiet until they made it through the smoky lobby and could breathe the fresher air outside. The sidewalks were covered in gum, but relatively quiet for it being so late in the morning.

“Onii-chan, you are a good person,” Alluka protested quietly, kicking at a cigarette butt in her path. “Even if you’ve done bad things.”

Killua laughed again, but the sound was hollow even to his own ears and something ached terribly in his chest. The handgun stuck into his waistband burned softly. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his younger sister’s gaze.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know what he’d done – what the Zoldyck family business was.  But when she was six years old, she’d woken up one morning with dark eyes, had gone downstairs, and told Milluki that his most recent mark would be late to work today by three hours and would arrive in a red car instead of his usual black one. Of course, nobody had believed her. But then it had happened – she’d predicted the future accurately. And from then on, she was kept safe. She might help scope areas out, but she was kept away during the actual jobs.

So she’d never killed anyone. Not at the age of eight, with a knife and nothing else, to prove to Illumi that he was Zoldyck enough to make the torture training stop – which, of course, it didn’t. It became less frequent, but the kill hadn’t been slow enough, apparently. As if dragging out a man’s death was a desirable trait in a hitman or assassin.

Well. Illumi liked it, anyway.

“I’m a good person for you only, Alluka. You and Nanika only,” he said, heart heavy under layers of muscle. Alluka’s blue eyes lowered, finding the gum-spotted sidewalk and tracing patterns through the rare clear spots. Whether or not she believed him, Killua would never be sure. But she said nothing, allowing her brother’s statement to go unchallenged.

* * *

“A peppermint mocha latte and a chocolate croissant? Really?”

Killua batted his sister’s poking fingers away from his cheek, resolutely ignoring her teasing in favor of focusing on the entirely too amused barista behind the coffee shop counter. The coffeeshop was downtown, a good thirty minutes of walking from the seedy area of town in which they’d rented a hotel room, and every countertop was clean, polished to a bright sparkle. He and Alluka, with their neatly-styled outfits, blended in well though they did seem a bit unprofessional for the city’s financial district.

“I like chocolate, Alluka, leave me alone.”

The barista handed him his drink and dessert-breakfast, leaving Alluka to huff irritably at him and then order – ironically enough – the exact same thing. Killua snorted from the small corner table he’d chosen at the back of the café, leaning back against the wall he sat up against and hooking one ankle over the opposing thigh.

“Hmmm, it seems that someone is a touch hypocritical this morning,” He ribbed lightly, arching an eyebrow at his sister. The bell on the storefront door jingled awkwardly as she sat down in the seat opposite him with a pout, and over her head Killua caught a glimpse of tan skin and slanted eyes. He felt a prickle of apprehension roll down his spine, hand drifting towards the slim gun hidden at his waist. His instincts were good. So good that he’d never been wrong.

The burly blonde slammed a hand down on the countertop, tan skin flickering beneath a dark, slightly rumpled suit. The man was broad-shouldered, intimidatingly large to the average person, and as the barista yelped and pressed away from the hulking man, Killua saw a flicker of color on the man’s wrist. Tattoos. Yakuza. Instantly, he tensed up, his foot nudging Alluka’s under the table. She nodded, refusing to turn and look behind her, pretending that the commotion was simply an infuriated customer. Killua did the same, taking his cues from the few other people in the shop and sticking with only a very mild curiosity.

Yakuza didn’t often like to go after the customers of the shops that paid for their assistance and protection. But this seemed rather aggressive for a routine collection of debts, overly so, and so there was a chance that he and Alluka could be caught in the crossfire. He knew how the yakuza worked – especially in this city, which was dominated by branches of the two largest yakuza conglomerates in the country. It was a hot zone, constantly torn up by small-scale turf wars between the yakuzas’ affiliated gangs and…and incidents exactly like this one.

It was a good place to disappear. But that didn’t mean it was safe. Far from it.

“You owe Boss Hisoka some cash, girl,” the man grunted irritably, knuckles creaking on the laminate countertop. “You haven’t been paying lately.”

The barista behind the counter stuttered, teeth chattering and mumbled something shakily into a small pager. The man waited, muscles flexing as if on some kind of repetitive cycle. Classic brutish intimidation. Killua tried not to sneer in disgust, schooling his face into buzzing perplexity as a taller woman emerged from the back, looking tired.

“This café was bought by the Hunters,” she said tiredly, stepping protectively in front of the terrified barista. Her hand had gone white-knuckled on a butcher-knife’s handle. Killua bit back a hiss of anxiety, fingers halfway to the pistol concealed at his side. “The Clown Boss doesn’t own our debt anymore. This is Hunter turf now.”

The burly blonde man snarled, then reached into a jacket pocket and pulled a much heavier handgun from his rumpled grey suit, the stained cuff jerking up past his wrist to reveal the edges of intricate violet and turquoise and ruby designs etched into his skin. The tall woman flinched away, shoving the barista fully behind her body. For a moment Killua wanted to stare at Alluka, like if he pretended long and hard enough that he wouldn’t have to see another death.

“Oh, are you having a troublesome customer again, Miss Hanbo?”

A cheerful voice cut through the sudden tension, knocking the breath Killua had been holding out of his lungs. Instantly, the tall woman relaxed slightly, still clearly frightened by the gun leveled at her and her employees. The jingling chime of the door closing rang in the sudden silence and a solidly-built man with a sharp jawline and a bronze tan stepped quite firmly between the hulking blonde and the pair of café workers cowering behind the counter. Unlike the yakuza collector, this man seemed very crisp, dressed in black slacks, a green button down, and a pressed suit jacket. Killua’s heart suddenly burst into his mouth, blue eyes dilating in absolute shock, and he almost lunged across the table when hazel eyes turned dark by anger flickered.

“…You’re Freecss,” the blonde growled suddenly. The barrel of his weapon slid to aim unerringly between the third and fourth rib of a man Killua hadn’t seen for a decade. Alluka finally snapped, following his helpless stare over her shoulder. She made a quiet beep of surprise. “Fancy killing you here, Hunter scum.”

Hunter. Killua’s pulse pounded in his ears, disbelief and nausea choking the air from his lungs. It was a slang name for one of the most powerful yakuza conglomerates on the continent, let alone the country. He’d had no idea his childhood friend would have joined them. Although, if he was still looking for his father…the yakuza would be the perfect place to get information.

Gon smiled, completely unconcerned by the gun aimed at him, and quirked an eyebrow. He seemed completely at ease with the whole situation. Killua’s eyes narrowed. Too at ease. He knew something that made him untouchable.

“You know what happens if you kill me on bloodless territory, don’t you? Be smart and put the gun away, Clown.”

Killua froze, and Alluka stared at him, her eyes wide in shock. That was a bluff. It had to be a bluff. Because if it wasn’t a bluff, it meant that killing Gon here, in what was apparently a truce zone, would be the equivalent of a declaration of war – something that neither branch of the yakuza in this city could afford. War between them would devastate them both. And no yakuza branch in their right mind started a full war over some low-level grunt. So…it had to be a bluff.

Otherwise, Gon was a yakuza boss at _twenty-five_.

But then, slowly, the bulky lackey lowered the weapon, snarling in suppressed outrage. Killua felt his heart drop into his stomach No way. No fucking way.

This was _bad_.

If Gon was a Hunter boss, then he’d know about and possibly even have dealings with the Zoldycks. He might even know that two Zoldycks had fled the family estate months ago, and had the eldest Zoldyck sibling on their tail. But regardless, he knew Killua’s last name. And he’d more than likely recognize the two Zoldyck siblings anywhere. After all, Killua’s white hair wasn’t exactly…a standard color. Especially since it was natural.

Alluka stared at him with wide eyes. Killua took a soft, deep breath, the air like tiny needles of fear pricking his lungs. Alluka could be safe if she didn’t turn around. And he was the closest person to the bathroom door, which was a full five meters from his chair. If he could just get there and hide until Gon left without drawing attention…

It helped that most of the café’s patrons were staring directly at the man who’d pulled a gun out to threaten the barista. The hulking man now grumbling obscenities at Gon and shuffling off like a defeated puppy. Now was his only chance.

Breathing slowly, the way he would back at home, when he was practicing blending into his surroundings, he stood casually from his chair, keeping the movement easy and languid. Alluka held her breath unconsciously, stilling too much too quickly, and he nudged her with his toe as he stepped away from the table. Gon didn’t look away from where he was now reassuring the woman holding the butcher knife, strong hands resting lightly on the countertop, bright bronze skin dark against the cream linoleum. Killua’s footsteps were silent, the soles of his shoes noiseless even on the squeaking tiles.

He was barely a pace away from the bathroom door when his ankle betrayed him, a sharp spike of pain snapping up the side of his leg and curling around to the arch of his foot. His rhythm broke, steps turning uneven and sharp, stilted for just a moment enough that the flash of movement caught attention, like the flicker of a predator in peripheral vision.

Gon’s entire face lit up in recognition, hazel eyes flashing like honey, and a smile twinged at one corner of his mouth. Killua closed his eyes, blacking out the world around him so he didn’t have to see the moment that certainty suffused his childhood friend’s tanned expression.

A thirty-minute drive and fake papers (both of which he admitted had no idea how to procure) and they would have been free. Now- he didn’t know. But Gon had seen him, and he couldn’t allow that information to leak. He couldn’t. For Alluka’s sake. A hand drifted towards the waistband of his jeans. His fingers shook slightly.

“Killua?”

The metal felt smooth in his hand and he whipped around faster than an untrained eye could follow, the handgun easily level in his palm with sightposts in perfect alignment and aimed at the center of Gon’s throat. The yakuza man who had once been his friend stilled, watching the pale trigger finger poised to send steel into his spine. Instantly the café fell silent. Even Alluka froze up, gazing at her brother and the other man with both pain and horror in her eyes. She knew what Gon had been to him.

_But he’d do anything to keep her safe._

Slowly, Gon’s hands went up, but his gaze stayed steady and not at all like a man who knew he had a professional assassin aiming a bullet at him. Alluka stood as well and took a few hesitant steps closer to Killua. Her face was drawn and pinched, the warm light of the café turning her growing paleness into yellowed glaze. But Killua paid her no mind, his entire world narrowed down onto the man at the end of his gun.

“You weren’t supposed to recognize me.”

His voice was flat, carefully controlled and kept dry. Each word came out with a slight jerk, like the modulated voice of a robot and honestly he felt similar, empty except for a deep ache in his chest that would burn as soon as he pulled the trigger. Gon just looked at him with big owlish eyes, a mix of understanding and confusion behind that sharp glance. And then Alluka put a hand on his arm, on the hand wrapped around his pistol. He stiffened, rigid with tension. Gon took a slow step closer, his footsteps cautious.

“I’m not your enemy, Killua,” Gon said carefully, hands still up. There was ink on his wrists too, the colors beautiful and muted on his skin. Killua growled in warning, trying to shake his sister off.

“You saw me.”

Suddenly, Alluka stomped her foot, eyes darkening, and Nanika’s blackness expanded his sister’s pupils to swallow the blue of her eyes.

“Killua, no!” Nanika demanded crossly. The spirit tugged at his wrist and arm again, Alluka’s body moving gingerly along with the spirit’s commands. “No!”

Killua’s chest seized with sudden life, a flash of something like hope pouring fire into his veins. Nanika was never wrong, never. And she was telling him not to shoot. Slowly, he started to lower the weapon slightly, finger sliding off the trigger.

“…He’s allowed to see me?”

For a long moment there was silence, and then Nanika smiled big, her expression lighting up Alluka’s pretty face.

“Ai!”

It was like the weight had disappeared from Killua’s shoulders, or at least, most of it. Alluka shook herself as he lowered the gun completely, barrel pointing to the slate tiled floor, safety flicked on with a soft click. Gon took another step closer, still looking baffled by the hostile response from the person he’d befriended a decade ago, hands slowly falling back down to his sides.

“Killua?”

Alluka turned around, blue eyes wide, and Gon started again. The understanding on his face intensified, complicating into comprehension.

“Alluka? What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to know about.” Killua answered before his sister could, taking a step forward with the gun still in his hand. Gon paused, staring at him, then dropped his gaze to the gun briefly before tucking his hands into his pockets and fearlessly meeting Killua’s hard glass gaze with and amber smirk.

“Alright, that’s fair,” he said. A grin shattered the bronze of his face with a blindingly bright grin, and Killua’s dead heart clenched in agony under that light. “Then…I haven’t seen you guys in _years_! How have you been?”

Killua blinked, stupefied, and Alluka laughed, sneakers tapping on the tile as she slid out from behind her brother and reached forward to tackle Gon in a hug.

“Hi Gon!”

Killua absentmindedly pinched himself. Gon didn’t disappear, still standing and chatting perfectly normally in the middle of a coffee shop in which he’d been held at gunpoint twice within a span of ten minutes. The sharp flash of his smile as he spoke didn’t fade. And neither did the tattoos peeking out over his collar. Gon was here, with yakuza connections, possibly even his own branch of yakuza, in the exact city that Killua needed to pass through to smuggle himself and his sister across the border.

And Nanika hadn’t been wrong yet.

“Killua?”

Gon’s voice was tentative. But Nanika hadn’t let him kill the man, and that meant he wasn’t a threat. Hopefully.

Killua bit down on the smile twitching at the corners of his lips and tucked the pistol back into his jeans. Then he flashed a smirk.

“I’m alive, mostly. You?”

Gon’s grin almost knocked him over, fierce and spunky, the way he’d been when they were kids, but this time it sent a pleasant thrill down his spine and Killua shivered slightly. Maybe this unexpected reunion wasn’t so unfortunate after all.

“I’ve got a lot to tell you, actually. Can we sit?”

Killua thought for a moment, then tilted his head back and gestured at their table with his chocolate croissants..

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got time.”


End file.
